Alas, poor America! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite tolerance, of most excellent opportunity; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? (Hamlet, V.i)

6
posted on 08/01/2013 4:46:54 AM PDT
by left that other site
(You Shall Know the Truth, and the Truth Shall Set You Free...John 8:32)

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